


It's a Battle Cry (It's a Symphony)

by butterflycell



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: Angels, Demons, Established Relationship, M/M, Soulmates, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-02
Updated: 2013-12-02
Packaged: 2018-01-03 07:16:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1067594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/butterflycell/pseuds/butterflycell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Look at that, one of the Lord's defenders, dedicating his life to helping the rich get richer.” Michael slid his arms around Harvey's neck and leaned in, the older man letting himself be caught in an easy kiss. Something sparked through Harvey's chest. It felt a little like he'd been waiting his whole life for that touch and everything that had come before was incidental. Michael hummed gently and pulled back with a smirk. “Sometimes I think you spend a little too much time with me.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's a Battle Cry (It's a Symphony)

**Author's Note:**

> This is best enjoyed whilst listening to [Seven Devils](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yJL5SE1i0u4) by Florence + the Machine

The condo was quiet. As with every evening, he came home and shed the last of the day's responsibilities as he walked through the door. The night was _his_ time, where the clamouring sounds of the world around him faded to a point of clarity.  
  
He was stretched out on the couch, listening to the easy strains of jazz floating from the sound-system. Sophie's Choice was open in his hands; he was reading it for maybe the hundredth time. There was a scotch sitting on the coffee table beside him. The lights were down, the living area lit only by the reading lamp on the side table behind him. It was somewhere near midnight, the working day having long since transitioned into the vibrant, thrumming night-life of a metropolis.  
  
Outside, New York was alight with activity. The buildings were lit up throughout the panoramic view afforded by his glass wall, each window a point of light in the darkness. The sound of traffic filtered up even to here, but was distant enough to be ignored.  
  
Here, his safe haven away from the chaos and bustle of millions of lives colliding with constant, brutal beauty. It was one of the things he loved about this world, one of the things that made him so eager to stay in it. He liked this version of life and the simplicity in which he fit to it. For all the glory and tranquillity he'd once known, this constant thrill and uncertainty of free will was where he belonged.  
  
He turned a page and paused, looking up slightly. Something had caught his attention, a softening of sound and a tightening of the air around him.  
  
“Harvey.” With a slight smile, he slotted a bookmark into place. He would recognise that voice anywhere. “You're a hard man to track down.”  
  
He slid the book onto the table beside his scotch and swung himself round so he was sitting up. He glanced over at the kitchen area, finding an unfamiliar figure leaning back against the breakfast bar, arms folded across his chest. Even like this, unknown and strange, he could feel the comforting power and energy of the maelstrom within.  
  
“Michael.” He reached forwards and picked up his drink, taking a sip. He looked younger than Harvey remembered, strangely innocent and endearing. The perfect lie. This body fit him - better than any that had come before. The younger man pushed off the counter and crossed the room. “You look good.”  
  
“What can I say? The twenty-first century agrees with me.” He slid himself onto Harvey's lap, straddling him as he took the tumbler and knocked the remainder of the drink back. He caught his eyes in a long, penetrating stare. The scene was familiar, to the point where Harvey could almost taste and smell the hundreds of occasions it had happened before. Yes, they were different, each life they lived changing the physical, but this sensation stayed the same.  
  
Harvey eased the glass out of Michael's hand and slid it back onto the coffee table. Harvey nodded slightly in approval, his hands settling on the younger man's hips. Michael grinned.  
  
“'Harvey _Specter_ ', kinda transparent, don't you think?” He cocked his head to one side, considering. Specter: spectre, spirit. He might've been classed as such, once upon a time, but _that_ was an existence that was long since gone.  
  
“Not at all – religion is all be dead here. Besides,” his fingers slid under the material of Michael's clothes, his thumbs rubbed circles into his skin, just above the waistline of his skinny jeans. He revelled in the dual sensations of discovery and homecoming that touching him inspired. He raked his gaze over the slim body before meeting Michael's eyes again, “who'd expect to find someone like _me_ working in the best corporate law firm in modern day New York city?”  
  
“Look at that, one of the Lord's defenders, dedicating his life to helping the rich get richer.” Michael slid his arms around Harvey's neck and leaned in, the older man letting himself be caught in an easy kiss. Something sparked through Harvey's chest. It felt a little like he'd been waiting his whole life for that touch and everything that had come before was incidental. Michael hummed gently and pulled back with a smirk. “Sometimes I think you spend a little too much time with me.”  
  
Harvey grinned. “Says the hell-spawn who saved an entire neighbourhood from vicious, bloody slaughter... and that was only last week.”  
  
“Those guys pissed me off.” Michael shrugged, but couldn't hold back a knowing smile as he pulled Harvey in again. This kiss was deeper and a great deal more sensual, their bodies pulling together instinctively. They pressed into and around each other without any conscious thought, something deeper than their bodies knowing they were a perfect fit.  
  
Michael wrapped his fingers into the front of Harvey's t-shirt, tugging him up as he got back to his feet. Harvey let himself be pulled into the bedroom, already working open Michael's belt and jeans, pushing them down his hips as Michael stripped away his tshirt. He slid his hands up the younger man's stomach and pushed him down onto the bed, falling with him and letting himself be rolled onto his back.  
  
Michael pulled away, straddling him once more, hands pressed to Harvey's chest as he surveyed him. It was like a king looking out over his land after waging war. He was accessing the changes, expression full of the acceptance and open-mindedness of relief and homecoming. Harvey met his eyes, he recognised them - felt the familiarity to the very core of him. He'd known those eyes forever, no matter what body they were wrapped in. It had been only a half a century this time, only one lifetime, but _fuck_ he'd missed him.  
  
“Sometimes I think you get closer and closer to your true image with each form you take.” Michael's words were soft, spoken low and filled with a tone that was more than just his human body.  
  
“Oh?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. Michael nodded and eased himself back down, lying flush against him, faces only inches apart.  
  
“When I walked in, for the briefest of moments, I thought I saw _you_.” Harvey could barely see the blue in his eyes, just the lust and blown pupils. He hadn't realised how hard he was panting until he surged up and kissed him frantically, claiming him in as many ways as he could. His hands gripped at Michael's ass, pulling their hips together in a way that made them both groan.  
  
Every other thought left Harvey as he devoted himself to learning this new body, to discovering it's intricacies and the ways to make it fall apart. He made a point to trace every inch of skin he could reach, cataloging the hitches in Michael's breath and the soft moans that echoed in his chest. He could feel the younger man doing the same to him, his fingers pressing their advantage with each pressure point he searched out.  
  
Harvey worked him with his mouth and fingers and tongue until Michael was shaking and begging beneath him, stretched and ready. Sinking in, Michael clung to him and took Harvey in until the vastness of their differences was gone and it was just _them_ , wrapped up skin-to-skin in a mess of human bodies and needs and emotions. When he came, buried deep with Michael's lips pressed to his throat, Harvey found himself blinded.  
  
As they came down, they lay together, naked and curled around each other on the bed, unable to let go just yet. Slowly, they taught each other to calm their breathing, to settle the rushing buzz of orgasm in their blood. The first time together in new bodies was always the most tiring, wringing out every last scrap of desire to be had. Harvey stroked absently at Michael's back, tracing patterns along the bumps of his spine and ribs. He felt so fragile in that moment, all his bravado and venom shed for a few moments in this eternity. He had to fight far harder for his place in the world than Harvey had ever had to, but he did it for _this_ and he did it by choice.  
  
Michael sighed and shifted, stretching his lithe new physique in a way that made Harvey feel just a little old. He rolled his eyes at the sleepy smile plastered across the younger man's face. He burrowed back into Harvey's chest and they stayed wrapped together until the last of their excess body heat dissipated and a slight chill began to brush at them.  
  
Harvey eased the comforter out from under them and pulled it up across their chests. In the shuffle, a little more of the hazy atmosphere broke away and cleared his mind. Questions began to trickle back to him, things he wanted and needed to know.  
  
“How do you spend your time these days?” He asked quietly, looking down as Michael craned his head back to meet his gaze.  
  
“I work in media, photography for fashion magazines.” He smiled lazily again, reaching a hand up to run fingers over Harvey's mouth, tracing the line of his lips. “There are a _lot_ of souls to be traded in the eternal quest for youth and beauty.”  
  
“We wouldn't want you to fall behind your quota now, would we?” Harvey smirked, impressed by the deviousness of Michael's ploy. He'd always excelled in that area and he was far, _far_ more creative than his kin.  
  
“It gets the job done and I get left alone. It doesn't hurt that I enjoy it for the most part.” Michael's fingers traced across his chest and Harvey felt whispered dissipations of energy across his skin. He recognised sigils from their long forgotten languages, given little to no power by the lazy manner Michael formed them. They were a gesture, for protection and hiding. He raked a single nail down Harvey's side.  
  
Michael pushed away and sat up, shuffling out from under the duvet. He got to his feet and sauntered out to the lounge. Harvey let him go without comment and listened, realising that the record player had long since fallen silent. He heard a vinyl slide from its card and paper sleeves before dropping into place. A moment later, the air was filled with the expectant crackle of dead sound, and Michael appeared in the doorway just as sleazy blues saxophone started to echo through to them.  
  
He crawled up the bed and burrowed back under the covers to return into his place beside Harvey, a hand resting on Harvey's neck as he pressed a kiss to his collar bone. “I see you still can't resist your music.”  
  
“It keeps me honest.” Harvey admitted, letting his eyes fall closed.  
  
“You don't have it in your bones to be anything _but_ honest.” He could feel the smirk in Michael's voice, teeth grazing over his skin. “I'm impressed by your reputation in a world filled with liars and thieves.”  
  
“ _Every_ world is filled with liars and thieves, and every world has those whom they prey on. It's not much of a leap to tip the balance a little.” Michael laughed at that and Harvey twisted them, pressing the younger man down into the bedding. “Even you do it from time to time.”  
  
“Yeah, and I'm risking getting called downstairs enough as it is.” Michael pinched at his sides and Harvey bit sharply at his neck in retaliation. He soothed the spot with his tongue before moving to draw Michael into another kiss, licking his mouth open and delving in. Harvey rarely got possessive about anything other than his music collection, but if there was one thing guaranteed to bring out his primal side, it was the being in his arms.  
  
They broke apart and he let Michael turn them. He knelt over him again, the duvet sliding off to pool around his waist as he looked down at Harvey with a sudden, intense contemplation. Harvey had seen that look before. He was about to speak when a sly grin spread across Michael's face and he pressed his hand down.  
  
Michael's fingertips pushed at his chest, hard enough to crush the air from his lungs as they sunk into his skin. Light began to pour out from where they were buried and Harvey gasped, unable to break away from the sight of complete ecstasy washing across the younger man's face. His mouth had fallen open as he panted for breath, eyes closed and head cocked slightly to one side, his chin ducked to his chest. It echoed everything that was firing through himself.  
  
The sensation in his chest was overwhelming, his body and nerves lighting up as endorphins flash-flooded his system. He tore his gaze from Michael's face, and looked down to where they met. The skin of Michael's arm was blackened with a maze of writhing marks and symbols that moved their way up his forearm, fading out at his elbow. Harvey was all too aware of something against his consciousness, a familiar touch that was firm and comforting, something that felt like home.  
  
Another wave of emotion hit him at the thought and he heard Michael cry out, his hand twitching as if to move, to withdraw.  
  
Without thinking, Harvey clutched at his wrist and arm with both hands and pushed him in further. The light pouring from him intensified tenfold and Michael's eyes snapped open, locking on his. He'd never been in this deep before. Not once in the history of their creation. The comforting touch became an embrace, a feeling of utter bliss enfolding him. He could feel tears welling behind his eyes from the sheer force of the sensation.  
  
Harvey shuddered and Michael threw his head back, crying out again as his whole body snapped taught. The sensation rippled back into him and Harvey had to let go, Michael hauling his hand out of his chest as he panted and gulped at the air.  
  
Everything froze, a moment dragging out in a stretch of dead, achingly lonely air – but then Michael slumped to one side, Harvey bolting upright to catch him and lay him down. Michael gripped to his arm and stared at him, eyes almost completely glazed over.  
  
“Harvey...” Michael murmured in vague disbelief, a hand moving to lay over the red-raw skin he'd left on Harvey's chest. The flesh was inflamed, throbbing and damaged, but Michael's touch cooled the burn and eased the pain a little.  
  
Harvey let himself be pulled closer, their bodies flush together, but he couldn't quite shake the feeling of a cold, cavernous distance between them. After what they'd shared, it would take some time to come back to terms with the restraints of their mortality.  
  
Still, as he lay there, exhaustion overwhelmed Harvey for perhaps the first time in this life. His misgivings were forgotten as he fell far away from consciousness, aware the whole time of Michael in his arms.  
  
\--  
  
The sunlight filtering through the windows was the dull grey of early morning. Harvey was aware of a chill against his skin, somewhere on the surface. He felt leaden, lethargic, numb. It was a struggle to shake off the remnants of sleep and open his eyes.  
  
Minutes stretched out and when he managed to blink weakly, he found himself alone, the bed cold beside him. He closed his eyes again and turned away.  
  
He felt old, his body a cage. It was like the cold grey light filling the room was sinking in through his skin and holding him hostage. He felt empty, hollowed out and tossed to one side. His chest ached and his heart struggled to stay afloat.  
  
He brought a hand up to rub at his chest, an attempt to coax _somethinganything_ through the numbness in his limbs.  
  
As his hand fell, a throb of pain pierced the apathy and he was jolted into glancing down. His fingers had connected with rough, fragile scabbing and as he probed the area, he found the surrounding skin hot to the touch and beautifully painful.  
  
He sucked in a breath and stared up at the ceiling until the stretch of the damaged skin across his chest became too much and he had to exhale.  
  
This was the hard part, the _recovery_.  
  
It was dull and agonising and occasionally unbearable – but that was the price to be paid for those moments when two souls connected completely. He knew the routine, knew it would get better eventually, knew how to drag himself through the next few days. The two of them had worked it out centuries ago, together.  
  
To recover, they had to be alone, they had to force themselves back into their own bodies and make their souls fit themselves once more. They had to learn how to be human again.  
  
Harvey forced himself out of bed and staggered across the room. He glanced around the lounge, then back towards the bed. Nothing suggested that anything out of the ordinary had happened last night, that he'd been anything but alone.  
  
He brought a hand back to his chest, his fingers falling into place along those that had been branded onto him.  
  
He smiled slightly and took strength from that one piece of evidence as he pushed himself into his usual morning routine. He just had to stick to his habits, to fall back into the groove he'd made for himself in this day and age.  
  
He reconnected with the feel of his body a little, pushing himself to his limits at the gym. He ran further and harder for longer than he'd managed before, thankful for the peace and quiet of daybreak, glad that there was no-one else to interfere. By the time he was warming down, he had a grasp of his limbs again. He felt in control, even if it did feel like driving a foreign vehicle.  
  
Once he'd showered and eaten, he wrapped himself up in the stiffest shirt in his closet and the most fitted three-piece he could find. He tightened his tie just that little bit more than normal and let himself pause for a moment. He closed his eyes, focussing on the slightly pressurised discomfort of his clothes. They made him aware of himself, keeping his physical form in the back of his mind at all times.  
  
With a final, listless sigh, he left the condo. Soon. It would be better soon.  
  
\--  
  
Two months on and things were very nearly back in place.  
  
Harvey had kept himself in a rigid routine. He didn't deviate, didn't alter it, he just followed in the footsteps he'd always taken. He forced his logical mind to take control when the blackness threatened to swallow him whole, and he pushed himself through to the next sunrise.  
  
It was easier than he'd expected at work. If anything, he worked harder and faster because to stop was to lose himself in the emptiness consuming him. If Donna noticed the way he avoided all physical contact other than shaking clients' hands, then she said nothing. She raised her eyebrows at him a couple of times, but she was silenced with a coffee and extra time for lunch or an early finish.  
  
He found himself in the best shape he'd been since college, often spending hours every day at the gym, or running or swimming – _anything_ to fit himself back into his body, to chase away the constant fog in his mind and despair in his heart.  
  
Each morning, it got just a little easier to wake up and every night, it got a little easier to be on his own.  
  
He'd learnt that lesson the hard way, almost three centuries ago. He'd thought the answer to the overwhelming loneliness was to surround himself with people, to immerse himself in human contact and to indulge the senses. It had taken him four lifetimes to realise that company didn't help. It was worse to feel so all consuming isolation in a room of voices than a room of dead air. To be near Michael was worse – to be so close yet so far from the answer to your addiction, _destroying_ yourself to get more. How many times had their bodies worn away because of it? How many times had they turned on the other for denying them? No. Complete separation was the only way.  
  
As he anchored back into his bones, his chest improved too, healing at a heightened rate. By the end of the first day, the swelling and heated skin had faded to bruising. It spread dark and inky across his front for a couple of weeks as the scabbing dried and came away to leave a handprint in vibrant, knotted scars. As the last of the bruising mottled to yellow, the scars had turned pink and begun to fade – though he knew from experience that the marks would stay until this body died.  
  
Two months was a long time, and it wore at Harvey's defenses. It seemed infinitely more grueling than any time before, and he knew it was because of how far they'd pushed their limits. They normally risked only a brush of fingers, just a dip to re-affirm everything they'd fought for in their time. Even now, Harvey wasn't entirely sure why he'd pulled Michael in as far as he had.  
  
He'd been unable to ignore the thought for days, losing any of the little sleep he usually got at night. He had to step up his exercise, to work later and harder so his body had no choice but to pass out. It may not have been the wisest of coping mechanisms, but it worked.  
  
Dealing with emotions like a healthy human being had never been his forte – particularly in this life as Harvey Specter.  
  
\--  
  
It may have taken a while, but Harvey eventually found himself at peace again. His chest had long since returned to normal with just a pale, pale pink hand-print. He could look at it now without feeling like giving in to the sadness inside.  
  
He knew he was ready when it was no longer a reminder of what he didn't have, but a reminder of what he had waiting for him.  
  
It was a Wednesday morning when he felt the change. He woke up and went through the motions – exercise, breakfast, shower – without letting his thoughts stray. He felt a lightness of being throughout the early hours of the morning, but he didn't assess it until the last moment – until he pulled on a soft white undershirt and let his fingers fall against the scar. It thrummed with his heartbeat, _Michael, Michael, Michael_ , in the back of his mind.  
  
When he got to work that morning, Donna shot him a look.  
  
“What?” He paused in the door to his office and turned on his heel. She just raised an eyebrow and shrugged.  
  
“Nothing. I'm just glad to see you're over whatever it was that's been going on.” She turned back to her work, ignoring him. Harvey stared for a moment, completely stunned for about two seconds before he pulled himself together and reminded himself that this was Donna – she'd been reading him for almost two decades, two steps ahead of him the entire time.  
  
He left his door open as he worked on writing up an outline for his current merger. Sometime mid-morning, he found himself looking up and paying attention to a phone call Donna was taking.  
  
“I have the assistant for a Mr. Ross asking for a meeting sometime today.” She'd covered the handset as she looked over.  
  
“Who?” He countered.  
  
“They're saying they're looking for you to head an upcoming merger.” Donna shrugged and Harvey pressed a finger to his mouth in contemplation.  
  
“Find some time for tomorrow.” Donna nodded and they each turned back to their work.  
  
The rest of his day was filled with case preparations and sweet-talking stubborn old clients. He was called into a settlement meeting at the last minute and managed to avert a colossal crisis for one of Jessica's Fortune 500 clients. He even forced himself to sit through and smile as they were 'treated' to a desperately boring dinner and drinks. Even with Jessica there, he spent the vast majority of the night wondering if he was missing a good sports game or a Star Trek marathon – and whether those would be more entertaining that this.  
  
No, there was _definitely_ a Star Trek marathon on somewhere and it was _definitely_ far more interesting than this.  
  
By the time he got home, he had enough time to spend an hour in the gym before collapsing into bed.  
  
\--  
  
Harvey had spent approximately five minutes in his office the following morning, just about managing to reorder the files in his briefcase, before he was leaving again to go across town. He had a meeting about the expansion of a client's company.  
  
The woman in question was in her early sixties and had built her empire from a love of cooking. She owned a chain of bakeries and restaurants across New York and was looking to expand to both LA and Chicago, with her son and daughter each taking control of a city. She had more than enough support from several years of steady, positive critiques, as well as an increasing number of orders being made from further afield than New York City.  
  
It really was a no brainer, but there had been something about the previously constructed contracts that unsettled Harvey. He'd spent the last three weeks pinpointing the problem and working out how to smooth it over.  
  
By the time his meeting that morning had finished, he'd made sure beyond any doubt or loophole that his client would retain full control of her company. If she sent him back to the firm with a box of freshly baked apple and cinnamon rolls, then that was really just a bonus. Not many people knew about his soft spot when it came to sweets.  
  
As he rode the elevator up to PearsonHardman, a strange sense of expectation started to well in him, like there was something he'd forgotten. As he turned the corner and met Donna's slightly incredulous look, he _knew_ there was something he'd forgotten. The Ross meeting. Crap.  
  
“He's been waiting for about ten minutes now.” She said calmly, holding her hand out for the box. Without even flinching, he relinquished his pastries and turned to his office. At the sight of the man sitting behind his desk, he just about managed to stifle a sigh and an internal kick to himself. Instead, he walked into his office – after barely a moment's hesitation – and closed the door behind him.  
  
“This office is very _you_.” Michael said with a grin, spreading his arms to gesture to the room. He was kicked back, his feet on the tabletop. Harvey came to a halt in front of the desk, hands in his pockets.  
  
“How'd you manage to get past Donna?” He jerked his head back towards the door. He did his level best not to let himself gravitate towards Michael. It was an instinct, something deep and primal, that he'd never been very good at denying.  
  
“Easily.” Michael folded his hands over his chest.  
  
“You told her what my favourite book was?” He raised an eyebrow and Michael shrugged.  
  
“She wanted proof that we were ‘old friends’. And, whilst Sophie's Choice is a _classic_ , it doesn't really fit into this world so much, does it?” His grin became a smirk.  
  
“Out of the chair.” Harvey flicked his hand and Michael hopped up, watching Harvey as he circled round to take his seat. He openly indulged in the opportunity to give him the once over.  
  
Michael sat back against the desk, a leg either side of Harvey's. He was wearing a suit with an outrageously skinny tie – a fact that was only remedied by seeing that on _this_ body, that outfit was doing all the right things.  
  
“I thought your people would be more comfortable letting me walk around here if I was wearing this.” He flicked the end of his tie and Harvey reached out, tugging it slightly in reply.  
  
“It'll do.” Harvey sat back in his chair again, trying to stake his dominance without letting on just how much it affected him to be so close to Michael again. He was aware of his heart pumping that little bit faster, the hand-print on his chest throbbing ever so slightly.  
  
Michael hooked his feet round the bottom of the chair and pulled it closer, leaning in and kissing Harvey before he could protest. Harvey was torn between keeping up his work persona and giving into his baser needs – and his body won. He kissed back hard, a hand sliding round the back of Michael's neck to hold him in place.  
  
He indulged for only a couple of moments though, pulling back and straightening up as if nothing had happened. He was certain that Donna had been watching, but he didn't want to risk Louis – or worse, Jessica – walking by. Michael just smirked, as if that had been all part of his plan.  
  
“So I hear you're looking to organise a merger.” Harvey spoke as if he was talking to any other client, half hoping that Michael would play along. Instead, he stayed where he was, the warmth of where their legs were pressed together burning in the front of his mind.  
  
“I do. Though it's not so much a contract negotiation than me telling you it's happening.” He shrugged, hands going back into his pockets. Harvey raised an eyebrow. “These lives, Harvey. This is it for us.”  
  
He stilled, watching something pass across Michael's expression. He moved a hand to his thigh and gripped a little. It seemed to anchor the younger man back to him, to them, to the room. Michael sighed and pinched at the bridge of his nose briefly, and Harvey found himself a little unsettled by the way he'd abandoned his armour so suddenly. Michael was rarely without the sharp, slick persona that he embodied. He was always dangerously quick-witted, charming and confident no matter the situation. Vulnerability only ever came in the safety of the two of them completely alone.  
  
“Hey,” he said gently, coaxing Michael to look at him again, “what's going on?”  
  
Michael moved a hand over Harvey's, slotting their fingers together before looking up with a weary smile. “I'm tired, I'm just... _tired_ of not being near you.”  
  
Harvey looked into him then and saw a hundred lifetimes, some he remembered and some he didn't. He saw decades upon decades of searching and waiting and walking away. He saw all the things Michael did to make sure he could stay on Earth. He saw the atrocities he'd committed before he learnt to be smarter – for a demon, he was strangely disgusted by the idea of human slaughter.  
  
He saw the constant, constant worry that it wouldn't be enough, that he'd be pulled back to Hell without being able to say 'goodbye'.  
  
“Then don't go.” Harvey said simply, flipping his hand and gripping tightly to Michael's. Michael was silent for a long moment, just staring at him – but slowly, he squeezed back and straightened up. His histories were shuttered away by the amused gleam Harvey had grown to know so well.  
  
“I was hoping you'd say that.” He gave him one last, soft smile before it switched to a full-blooded smirk. “Now that that's all settled, I think I need to go finish my work so I can fully acquaint myself with this new body of yours.”  
  
“What, you didn't get friendly enough last time?” Harvey raised an eyebrow as he let go of Michael's hand and leant back again. Michael grinned.  
  
“Last time was pretty much eclipsed by how bright you're burning in this skin.” Mike reached out and pressed his fingertips lightly to Harvey's chest, lining them up with the scar beneath his shirt. Harvey felt a whisper of a ghost of what he'd felt that night and he saw same on Michael's face. He let them drop away and got to his feet. “I'll come round to your place later.”  
  
“How late is 'later'?” Harvey asked with a frown, Michael already walking round the desk.  
  
“However 'later' you get home.” He said with a shrug. “And I'm not letting you fuck me without dinner, this time.”  
  
“That's hardly my fault – you turned up in the middle of the night.” Harvey rolled his eyes. “Besides, you got scotch.”  
  
“Only because I pried it from your weak old hand.” He was smirking again and Harvey had the intense need to wipe it off his face.  
  
“Are we really going to get into an age argument?” Michael froze at that, his smirk slipping ever so slightly. Harvey grinned in reply.  
  
Until the last few centuries, Michael had found himself as the oldest of the pair almost every lifetime. Considering that Harvey was the older of the two in ultimate age, it had been something of a sore spot for him. “Why don't you go prime your next anorexic clothes-hanger for her part in destroying the morale of every adolescent girl in the country?”  
  
“You try to sound scathing, but I know all about who you've been taking to bed over the last few years.” Michael grinned at that and promptly left the office before Harvey could reply. There wasn't much he _could_ say.  
  
Instead, he watched as Michael exchanged a few words with Donna before striding away. He was making it very clear just how well his suit fit him. Harvey smiled slightly. Michael was right, the twenty first century really _did_ agree with him.  
  
He very nearly failed to pay attention as Donna walked right in and stopped with her hands on her hips and stern look in her eyes. He turned to her, doing his best not to smirk too hard. “Yes?”  
  
“Since when have you been into guys?” There's an edge of warning to her voice, as well as a little incredulity. He'd feel guilty if it wasn't for the fact that Michael was the first man this body had been with since some minor fooling around in his teenage years.  
  
“It's been a while, but he's the exception – not the rule.” It was mostly true.  
  
“He's what you've been moping over for the last couple of months?” Some of the dangerous tone had left her voice. She sounded more than a little amused.  
  
“I have not been moping.” Harvey said sharply, pointing a finger in warning at her. She cracked a knowing smile.  
  
“He really knows you.” She moved forward then resting a hand on the back of one of the chairs across the desk from him. There was something affectionate and a little wistful in her tone. “You could've told me.”  
  
“When have we ever discussed feelings?” Harvey replied wryly, shooting her a look that clearly put a stop to that line of inquiry.  
  
“Good point.” She straightened up and the vague hurt was gone from her face. “For the record, if you ever try hide something as pretty as him from me again, I will not be held responsible for my actions.”  
  
“Haven't you got work to be doing?” He frowned slightly and she raised an eyebrow. As she turned and walked out, Harvey caught sight of a smirk on her face that could only mean trouble. He made a point to ignore it and finish up his work. His focus was entirely on the box of pastries waiting for him on Donna's desk.  
  
\--  
  
The sun had long since set by the time he closed his laptop and left his office. The quiet isolation of his car allowed him some precious moments to detach from the overwhelming humanity he found himself immersed in more often than not. The world of corporate law was a cruel and often unforgiving, where the people most in need of a voice were left choked and beaten on the floor. If Harvey had to keep a balance in his acts, he justified his ruthless rise to the top of his field by using his status to bring just a little justice where it was needed.  
  
He moved easily out of the car when it pulled up, keeping the world at bay for the short walk to his building. The quiet stayed enclosed around him as he nodded to the door man and made his way to the elevators. He rode up to his floor alone, absently listening to the sound of his breathing, or the heartbeat underneath. He smiled slightly, pulling out his keys as he stepped out into the corridor, approaching his front door.  
  
“When you said you'd come round, I assumed you'd at least wait 'til I was back.” He looked up, smiling at the nonchalant shrug that came from down the hall. He'd sensed Michael's presence at some point between stepping out of the elevator and turning the key in the lock. He let the door slide shut behind him.  
  
“You should know better than to assume.” Michael grinned, getting to his feet and prowling along the corridor. Harvey just stayed there, head cocked slightly to one side. The other man practically slid up to him, hands working their way under his jacket as he fitted himself against him. Harvey kissed him, soft, slow. Michael made a small noise in his throat, a sigh of relief or pain. He hands moved back and Harvey knew to brace himself.  
  
The air rushed hard and sharp from his lungs as his back collided with the wall beside the door. Michael was there, hands wound into his jacket lapels, mouth claiming him again in a hungry kiss. Harvey gave as good as he got, his control slipping away with each passing moment. He let Michael strip the jacket away, his briefcase falling to the floor and he wrapped his arms tight around Michael’s torso, arms slotting beneath his ribcage, pulling him into him.  
  
Their mouths were sharp, biting and clashing as they stumbled back down the hall into the living space. Harvey took the opportunity to push Michael against the breakfast bar, to corner him against the granite worktop and bite a sharp, sucking kiss to the join of his neck and shoulder. New skin, new taste, new everything and it was almost enough to overwhelm him.  
  
But Michael’s hands were at his belt, scrabbling with the metal before pulling it apart and tugging pants and boxers down over his hips, freeing his half hard cock as Harvey returned the favour. Michael shifted and kicked as Harvey worked the garments down his hips, until he was dressed only in the fitted shirt that he'd been wearing earlier, the tie and jacket discarded somewhere during the afternoon. Harvey’s hands instinctively moved to his ass, sliding round to press in all the places that made Michael fall apart.  
  
“Don’t bother.” Michael gasped, dragging their mouths apart Harvey moved to comment, to let words break through the haze, but Michael smiled with his blown pupils and red mouth. “I had a bit of fun whilst I was waiting.”  
  
Harvey frowned slightly and pressed a finger up against and into Michael’s ass, testing his claim. He watched the breath catch in Michael’s face, the slight fluttering of his eyelids as he tilted his head back slightly, instinctively. He was already slick, and a second finger proved that he was stretched to match. Harvey’s gut throbbed with need and he withdrew the digits, hoisting Michael sharply up onto the worktop. He lined himself up and Michael bore down, taking him whole in one thrust. Harvey tried to bite back the moan, but couldn’t stop it from bursting from his mouth.  
  
The sound tasted of lifetimes and centuries of want, of the painfully human need for physical affection. It was one of the quirks which made this existence so beautifully attractive.  
  
Michael was tense around him, arms tight around his shoulders and legs locked around his waist. Harvey shifted, pulled out a little and thrust back up, hard and brutal, cataloguing every minute shift of expression as Michael panted gently. He moved again and again, until Michael pants became mewls of encouragement, sensation, over-stimulation. A slight shift of angle and the next thrust went hard and deep, making Michael cry out, heels digging into the small of Harvey’s back.  
  
He couldn’t help the smirk that curled his mouth and he set an almost brutal pace, Michael’s fingers clenching and unclenching in the material of his shirt until he opened his eyes. Their gazes locked, both darkened and blown from being so close to the other and Michael surged forwards, dragging Harvey into a punishing kiss that pushed him over the edge.  
  
He picked up his pace until Michael was writhing and whining in his arms, begging for him to go further. Harvey could feel his own orgasm rising in his belly, threatening to break with every spasm of Michael's body, every whispered promise and curse. He shifted them, pushing Michael back a little and working a hand between them. He took his cock in hand and ran a thumb over the weeping head, earning a whimper from the other man. Michael dropped his head forwards, crying out as the next sweep of Harvey's thumb and thrust of his hips had him coming hard between them. His muscles tightened painfully, fingernails biting into his shoulder and Harvey was gone, emptying hard into Michael in a blaze of burning colour and sensation tearing through his gut and up his spine.  
  
They collapsed in against each other, panting for breath and seeking the other for grounding and reassurance. It so achingly familiar that Harvey could almost feel tears burning behind his eyes. Michael was right. This was it for them.  
  
His senses were blurred and jumbled, vaguely aware of Michael working his shirt open, baring his chest and leaning back enough to take a good look at the mark he’d left. Harvey looked down, watching Michael’s fingers press almost reverently against the silvery scar tissue, realigning his touch in an echo of before. He flattened his hand down and warmth from the touch seeped through Harvey’s skin and into his chest.  
  
He looked up then, catching sight of the soft look in Michael’s tired, tired eyes. It didn’t take much to lean forwards and kiss him gently. It was soft and full of comfort and homecoming. It was exactly what they each needed.  
  
“I thought you wanted dinner first.” Harvey said finally, a murmur as he broke away from Michael’s lips.  
  
“Dinner’s overrated.” Michael shrugged, smiling as he straightened up. He pushed Harvey back slightly, Harvey sliding from him with a vague ache of longing, and eased down to his feet. He stripped off the last of his clothes and worked Harvey’s shirt off him completely.  
  
He let his fingers wander over Harvey's chest, tracing his ribs and hips, following the curve of muscle that lead to his groin and let them move to his thighs. He was smiling. Harvey ran a hand through Michael's hair, smoothing it a little before brushing at the tops of his ears and along his jaw, ending at his throat and spanning it with a palm. Michael looked up at him, fingers pressing possessively into his ass and thighs.  
  
Harvey leaned in, catching Michael's lips. His hand moved to cup the back of his head and Michael's stayed pliant beneath him. He sucked at his bottom lip, biting gently and pulling them together. There was no fight, no sass, no cynicism. Michael was _his_.  
  
One day, soon by their standards though not by Earth's, they would finally stop. They'd find somewhere safe and warm and they'd crash over the precipice that they'd so far only toyed with. They'd no longer be reduced to separate existences, but move on together, stepping out of the cycle of reicarnation that they'd fallen into. It would be more than a hand reaching in, it would be whole bodies and it would burn them apart.  
  
But for one exquisite moment, they would exist as a single entity and find a feast of what they'd only managed to taste so far. If destruction was the cost of that, then it was more than a fair price.  
  
For now, though, Harvey would just make the most of this life. He'd keep Michael close, he'd keep him safe from prying eyes and he'd enjoy their last existence. Michael was calmed and content, his being at peace for the first time in a long while. He'd take every mortal pleasure he was offered and he'd welcome the end when it came.  
  
“Hey.” Michael pulled away, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Come back to me.”  
  
Harvey focused back on him, a small smile curling at one side of his mouth. Michael smirked knowingly and just pulled him back into another kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> Very, _very_ loosely inspired by the relationship of Aziraphale and Crowley from Good Omens (by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett) and the way angels and demons are presented in Supernatural.


End file.
